It's too much, Lord

Tom, the case manager at Tucker, Melissa, the NRLC social worker & her husband, Joe, and I all met at Tucker this afternoon. Joe and Melissa are very caring folks and both are involved with NRLC, I just can't remember their other titles - something like "service providers".  A nurse brought Mike in and he was not doing well. It's just more than my heart can bear. They had tried a new medicine yesterday and today he was drooling, rubbing his legs, and repeating "bring the letters".  The only thing he could do was write his name, but otherwise we were not able to distract him or get him to engage at all. This was clearly a medication-gone-wrong issue, again.

Due to this, no evaluation was able to take place other than the fact that in his current state, he would not be able to benefit from the program at NRLC.  It's way to expensive to have him not able to participate at all.  Melissa and Joe were wracking their brains to come up with some way to help us right now.  When we parted, they promised to talk with their medical director and see what options they could come up with or possible places that might take Mike just to regulate his medication. Obviously, this needs to be done slowly, and at Tucker he has been put on several different medications in the 10 days he's been there.  This is not good. Of course, insurance is pushing to get him out, so the doctor's feel pressure to do something quickly. However, it is backfiring and I feel like Mike is one big guinea pig.  I cannot imagine what he is going through and hate leaving him there, but now know my limitations.

Afterwards, I had to go to the lawyers office regarding Guardianship and then drove over to an area where Mike and I first lived as a married couple. I remembered a funny story. I came home from work one day and Mike had made brownies, my favorite.  He was so proud of himself and couldn't wait for me to taste them.  I was just as eager, but the first bite was sort of gumpy and tasted kind of weird. I took a second bite just to see if I could figure out what it was.  Mike is standing there grinning at me the entire time, munching away on one himself.  I asked, did you put something different in these brownies?  Pleased as a peacock, Mike says Yes! Bananas! Bananas and chocolate go great together, right?  It was too funny, he's always loved bananas, I can take 'em or leave 'em.  I remember we shared with the neighbors, who also thought they were weird, but it has always been a good story and made me smile today after the tough visit.  Keegan has encouraged me to think of past stories of Mike or our family together that make me smile or help me remember him as he was. It helps, because truly, the Mike I knew and loved, has not been with me for over a year and yet he is still here. It's a strange kind of grief. On the way home, I just told God it was too much, and He'd have to do something, because I was out of options and drained, not even knowing what to do now, and feeling so bad for Mike's current situation. It's awful.

Right after I got home tonight, I received a call from Melissa.  On the way back to Virginia Beach, she spoke with Dr. Voogt, the rehab PHD on staff with NRLC and Doug the program director, I think.  They want to try to work with us and help manage Mike's medication, even possibly try to take him off of everything, work with the fallout, and then restart. She said since Mike would probably not be able to participate in the therapies yet, they would reduce the price, while they just take care of him and adjust medication.  She asked that I contact Dr. Gualtieri, in NC to see if he would speak with their medical director in order to give some background on Mike's situation and for me to send them a list of medication and when I think Mike was doing better and what he was on.  I had gathered medication lists a few weeks ago, so will work on getting that faxed to her tomorrow.  God still gives hope.

"When I think I'm going under, part the waters, Lord. 

When I feel the waves around me, calm the sea. 

When I cry for help, O hear me Lord, and hold out Your hand. 

Touch my life, still the raging storm in me." 

A line from one of the Selah's albums "Part the Waters, Lord"

 which moves on into "I Need Thee Every Hour" 

Oh how I need, Jesus, every hour, minute, second, millisecond.

"Oh bless me now, my Savior, I come to thee."